


now you know me (for your eyes only)

by kindahannah



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Homophobic Language, M/M, Oops, blink and youll miss it honestly, calum is a dick, i didnt mean for this to get so sad it was supposed to be nice, lashton is also there for a millisecond, like dont read if slurs trigger you there are a few in there, luke and liz are in there for like 2 seconds, michael is poor, theyre bad at working out feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5214911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindahannah/pseuds/kindahannah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What part of 1:15 isn’t a bad time?” He asked, tone almost taunting.  Calum seemed to perceive it the same way, if the flush that rose to his cheeks was anything to go by.  “What are you doing here at 1:15, anyway, Calum?”</p>
<p>Or, a very loosely based "A Cinderella Story" AU, where Michael is just trying to keep food on the table, and Calum suddenly is back in his life-- But it's never that easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	now you know me (for your eyes only)

**Author's Note:**

> basically??? idek. sorry. this spiraled out of my control very quickly but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out? i was listening to made in the am when i wrote this, in case it isn't obvious. idk enjoy.

Michael Clifford was pretty good at dealing with annoying things, if he did say so himself. The fact that he even had to work all these ridiculous hours at work at Casey’s Diner every day of the week, all because his dad walked out on their family was annoying. His boss– sweet as she may be– was annoying for making him close up alone, nearly every night. His best friend, Ashton, was about as annoying as annoying gets. So, yeah. He was great at working with annoying things. It didn’t phase him. 

But some things were just too annoying. Like when people thought it was okay to ask him to keep the diner open later when it was clear he was cleaning up and trying to go home, just because they had a bad case of the munchies. He couldn’t deal with that. So when the bell rang above the door rang, signaling someone had just walked in, he groaned audibly from where he was sweeping under a row of booths. “What the fuck do you want?” He snapped, head lifting quickly.

He didn’t say anything else, stunned into silence when he saw the face of Calum Hood standing in the door, looking– dare he say– apologetic? The late night visitors were rarely anyone but stoners, let alone people like Calum Hood. Calum Hood, who was the football team captain and resident golden boy of the town. Calum Hood, who used to be his best friend but outgrew him the day they went to high school. Calum Hood, who’s new friends didn’t even consider Casey’s a classy enough place to visit during regular hours. That Calum Hood.

“Well? What do you want? I’d kind of like to get home at some point.” Michael repeated when he finally found his voice, refusing to be made a fool just by the presence of Calum fucking Hood. 

“Is this a bad time?” He finally croaked out, sheepish expression on his face as he shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, stepping away from the door and further into the diner. Which, okay. He figured Calum probably wasn’t the smartest. But this was pretty bad, even for him. 

Michael quirked an eyebrow, holding his broom in one hand as he stared Calum down. “What part of 1:15 isn’t a bad time?” He asked, tone almost taunting. Calum seemed to perceive it the same way, if the flush that rose to his cheeks was anything to go by. “What are you doing here at 1:15, anyway, _Calum_?”

“Well, _Michael_ , I can’t sleep. I was driving around the town, and I just thought you looked lonely.” Calum replied, walking up and taking a seat on one of the bar-stools, spinning around to face Michael– who was standing with an expression of surprise that Calum even remembered his name.

That surprised expression was quickly replaced with a scowl, huffing at the mere idea that Calum thought he knew anything about him. “I’m not _lonely_.” He scoffed, nose wrinkling up slightly before turning back to his sweeping. “I’m just tired. Not everyone can be wide awake and lively at the earliest hours of the morning.”

That elicited a laugh out of Calum– a sound that was almost foreign sounding, enough to make him pause slightly. “I don’t sleep well.” Calum replied, his voice moving, and just as Michael turned to figure out where he’d gone, Calum was kneeling in front of him, dust pan in hand. 

_‘I know’_ was what Michael wanted to say, but looking Calum in the eyes stole the words from his mouth, and instead he ended up muttering out, “This isn’t your job.”

Calum only shrugged, looking expectantly until Michael finally sighed and swept the pile of dirt into the dustpan. “What else can I do?” He asked, after taking care of the dust pan. 

“This isn’t your job.” Michael repeated, his tone cold. Maybe even a little too cold, if the little frown that appeared on Calum’s face was anything to feel guilty about. “Calum, this isn’t you. This isn’t _you_. You’re like, you’re some big-shot footie player. You’re popular, or whatever. It’s fucking 1:15, Calum, you should be at some party with all your friends that aren’t really even your friends, are they? They’re just someone for you to go out and get shitfaced with, and do meaningless shit with but they won’t judge you because they’re out getting shitfaced, too. That’s you, Calum. Not this. Not coming into some shitty diner at 1:15 and trying to help this guy you used to be friends with clean that shitty diner. That’s not–”

Calum cut him off with a groan, reaching for his shoulder. “If you want me to leave, I will. I get it.” He’s frowning, he looks almost hurt by his words, and Michael regrets how he snapped at him. 

“No. No, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m–” He swallows the apology that was right on the edge of his tongue, instead taking a deep breath and waving his hand in the direction of a bucket setting on the edge of the counter. “If you want to help you can go fill that up with hot water from the sink in the back, and then add just a little bit of the pink cleaning liquid under the sink– you can just guess-timate. Then grab one of the cloths and you can clean off the counters and shit.”

Calum, bless him, had the decency to look abashed at the sudden swing of his mood, and Michael turned to look down at the ground. He needed a minute to breathe, anyways, with Calum not in the room. He was crazy. He was definitely crazy, that was a fact. He wasn’t the smartest or the nicest, and so really it made sense why Calum wasn’t his friend anymore. He knew he didn’t deserve Calum, but just because he didn’t deserve him didn’t mean that Calum could just waltz back into his life and pretend like the last four years didn’t ever happen. That was shitty, too.

But Calum didn’t leave, like a normal person would when a crazy person lashed out at him. He stayed and cleaned off counter tops. It was silent. It was tense, and awkward, and silent. But he stayed while Michael finished sweeping and got the last of the clean dishes put away, even after he was done cleaning off the counters and the tables. 

“You didn’t drive here.” Calum stated from where he sat once Michael walked out of the back room, wiping his hands on his black jeans. He was slightly taken aback by that comment, and a little confused, but then it dawned on him that it would be clear to Calum, who did drive here in his little Toyota Camry, that there weren’t any other cars in the parking lot.

He shook his head, slowly, sheepishly chewing on his bottom lip. “Yeah. Well, it’s hard to drive a car you don’t have.” He laughed, trying to play it off like a joke, but he could see the way that Calum’s eyes widened a fraction at the remark, shoulders tensing, slightly. “What, Cal? Did you forget what your life was like when you still lived in the apartment next to mine?” It was meant to be a cutting remark, dry and kind of rude, and that he sort of regret once he said it.

But Calum chuckled, a hand running through his hair. “It was easier. You know? We still ate dinner, all of us together at the same table. And my mom smiled more. And we drove that–”

“That ugly 1976 Ford LTD Country Station Wagon.” Michael finished for him, a laugh leaving his lips despite himself, remembering the ugly station wagon, where he and Calum would sit in the back seat when his parents took them to the movie theater after school on Tuesdays, when they had two dollar tickets.

“Oh man, I fucking hated that car. It was so hot in the summer, and so cold in the winter. But, god, we used to go places together, the four of us. We used to drive to visit family every single summer, and we’d play so many rounds of that stupid license plate game. But it wasn’t really stupid. It was cute.” 

Calum’s smile was fading a little more as he continued to talk. Or maybe it was the same, and his eyes were just getting sadder. Either way, Michael didn’t like it, so he walked his way and motioned him up to walk out. “I walk, usually. I only live a couple blocks away.” Calum nodded, like it made sense. And it did They just had different lives, now.

“Well, I can drive you. Do you– Do you have to go home right now or–” He cut himself off, shaking his head like it was a bad idea. And it probably was– In any other circumstance, it would be an awful idea. Because people like him didn’t leave with people with Calum. Except in some weird space in between infinities like tonight, where normal life rules had somehow been thrown out the window, and it was like it they still lived in apartments next door to each other. Like they were still kids who would skateboard (miserably, they were horrible at skateboarding) in the parking lot and listen to Green Day and Blink-182 and think they were cool because of it.

“No. Let’s, like. Let’s go somewhere. Let’s do something. I don’t want to go home yet.” Michael assured him, and if he had any flickering doubts about it, they all disappeared when Calum all but beamed at him, jumping up from his seat and hurrying out the door, Michael right behind him. 

Like. The thing was, he knew that Calum’s life had changed, and his hadn’t. And he wasn’t resentful. He was glad that Calum had all these new opportunities and stuff. It was good. But it was still surprising. It was surprising on a normal basis, never mind after just practically reminiscing over the past and being close to Calum again– to then step outside and climb into his car that was barely even a year old. But it was so Calum, the Calum he knew, underneath the leather seats and the touch screen radio and the back seat littered with practice clothes. Because the clothes still smelled like the same laundry detergent that he always used, and the radio was on an alternative channel. It was all so Calum, and so familiar, he couldn’t bring himself to feel out of place.

He didn’t ask where they were going. He just let Calum drive. He let him roll down the windows and open the moon roof, and drive. 

Turns out they didn’t stop driving, but they kept talking.

They made some small talk:

(”So does your mom still smack you upside the head whenever you swear or put your feet up on the coffee table?” “Yeah. Do you and Mali still fight over the toy in the cereal box?” “Yeah.”)

They made not as small talk:

(“So, the insomnia is still as bad as it used to be?” “Worse. Did your dad ever show up on your birthday like he said he would?” “Never.”)

But they didn’t ever talk about now. The present. The shift that came and messed everything up. They just sat and let themselves live in the past for the night. Which, okay, maybe it was a little dangerous. Especially when they ended up sitting parked in front of the apartment building, laughing as they remembered some prank they’d played involving a fake snake and a bag of flour and an exterminator that was incredibly angry at two twelve year old boys.

“Oh, man. We had some good times, didn’t we, Mikey?” Michael would be lying if he said his smile didn’t quirk just a little higher at the old nickname. “Had some real good tricks up our sleeves, if I do say so myself. Not trying to brag or anything.”

“I thought you were just the coolest, Cally.” He returned the nickname, earning him a shove to his shoulder. “But, of course, it didn’t take me long to realize that you were completely lame, just put on a good show about it. Made more sense why you were friends with me, once I realized you were a loser.” Another shove.

“You weren’t a loser. Me? It’s debatable. But you weren’t a loser. Not even with those ugly purple jeans– And let’s not forget that god-awful emo fringe.” Calum practically cackled at the mention, and Michael touched his blonde hair self-consciously, thinking to himself how strange it was that Calum’s mysterious reappearance into his life lined up with the dyeing of his hair back to it’s natural shade. “You were cool. You didn’t give a shit what anyone thought about you, man, even when we were just kids. I thought you were brave.” Calum gives him this look that says he still does think that, and Michael cracks underneath it.

“I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids.” He blurts, and silence falls again. He does what he can to ease the tension with a loud laugh, mentioning offhandedly how dumb it was, but Calum isn’t smiling. He fucked up. God, he fucked up. He took what had the possibility to be a good thing, and he fucked it up. “Outgrew it, though. Thank God. You only got more lame as you got older.” He managed to chuckle at the end, God knows how.

A few different expressions flicker over Calum’s face before he seems to relax, and then his eyes light up. “Hey, do you remember–”

And just like that, it’s forgotten, and they’re back into laughing at some dumb thing they thought made him bad asses when they were ten. And it’s easy. Everything is so easy with Calum.

It’s late when they say goodnight, almost three, but it’s worth it. It’ll be worth it when he’s waking up with only two and a half hours of sleep to go to school the next morning, because it feels like the universe shifted somehow. And somehow everything is going to be fine.

 

-

 

Everything is not fine. Everything is most definitely not fine. Actually, quite the contrary. Everything is fucking awful, including Calum Hood. No, especially Calum Hood.

It falls apart as suddenly as it all came back together. It falls apart like this.

Michael’s best friend in the world, Ashton, picks him up for school every day, because even though it’s only a few blocks away from the diner, it’s a few miles away from school. 

(Michael had always hated the sneers from the kids on the bus when it stopped in the parking lot of an apartment complex and Michael was the only kid who got on. (It was bearable when Calum was there to brave it too, and he didn’t care as much what people thought, but he got more insecure when he was alone.)

So the bus thing lasted all of three weeks in freshman year before he was walking himself to school. His mom’s morning shift at work started way before he had to go, so it wasn’t like she’d ever find out, anyway. 

But then the walking thing didn’t last very long, either, because some dopey kid in his algebra class befriended him and decided that because he lived in the neighborhood right behind the apartments, and it was only a five minute walk to Ashton’s yard, then Michael would walk there in the morning and get on the bus there. And high schoolers aren’t really the smartest, so once Michael forged a letter from his mother that said his new bus stop was Ashton’s, the sneers stopped. 

And once Ashton got a car, he drove them both to school. Sometimes little things worked out for Michael.)

Anyway. Michael’s best friend in the world, Ashton, picks him up for school every day. Because he’s a saint, Michael’s personal fallen angel, he’s sure. And in another world, where Ashton wasn’t basically his brother, Michael’s sure he’d be in love with him. 

Not only does Ashton drive him to school, but Ashton listens. Even though Michael got one of the most incredulous and disbelieving looks he’d ever gotten in his life when he started the story with ‘So Calum Hood showed up in the diner last night while I was closing’, he sat and heard it out. By the end, they were parking at the school, and all Ashton could really do was mutter out, “ _Dude_ ” and then turn to stare at him. 

“I know. I fucking know, Ash. And it’s so? What does it all mean now? Do I get to talk to him? Will he acknowledge I exist now?” He rambled, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap.

Ashton’s surprised expression turns dark suddenly, lips curled down. “Mike, if he– I swear to God, if he tries to go back to how he used to be after he pulled that shit on you. I’ll kill him.”

Michael reached for his arm, shaking his head wildly. “No. No, no. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s just Calum.”

And that was his first mistake. 

He doesn’t see Calum at all in the morning. But, really, he isn’t sure if he usually doesn’t see Calum or if Calum is avoiding him, so he tries not to assume anything. He knows for a fact that they have lunch together, so he’ll wait until then. 

 

-

 

For some reason, his brain communicated to him that it was a good idea to walk past Calum’s table. That it would be a good idea to smile and wave, maybe even say hi. Nothing would go wrong.

Mistake number two.

He makes eye contact with Calum once, briefly when he’s across the cafeteria, walking his way. But that’s it. After that Calum didn’t look up again, and he should’ve known to not walk past him, not to start anything, but he did anyway. 

Mistake number three.

Apparently he stands in front of the table for too long. Apparently he was staring. Apparently he was wrong– so wrong, about everything.

“Hey, faggot. Can I help you with something?” A cruel voice cuts through what felt like silence, despite the bustle of everyone around him. 

He chokes on his words slightly, gaze snapping from Calum to the stranger who just called him– He doesn’t even _know him_. “What?” He managed to get out, sounding confused, even though he knew what was happening.

“I said, does your faggot ass need something?” He repeated, turning away from the table so his whole body was facing Michael. “Hey, do you hear me? Does your stupid, fucking homo brain register the words I’m saying?”

He can’t speak, he just looks at Calum helplessly, but Calum won’t look back at him. Why won’t Calum say something?

Apparently his silence isn’t good, because the guy stands and– He’s fucking huge. He’s a good few inches taller than Michael, and so much bigger. And he’s walking right towards him. “When I speak to you, you respond to me.” He snarls, and Michael is frozen. Which is bad. So bad. Because then there’s a fist in his shirt, choking him. “Do you want to get pummeled today, you little freak? Is that what you want? Staring at me, not responding when you’re spoken to?”

“No.” Michael manages to choke out, not looking the guy in the eyes. Instead he looks over his shoulder, looking for Calum, but he isn’t looking back. And he realizes how silent the cafeteria is. _Everybody’s fucking watching, but nobody’s doing fucking anything._

The guy lets go of him with a gruff, “Now scram, you fucking queer.” He turns away, head lowered. He almost does scram, but he can hear the way the guy laughs, and how his table joins him. He can practically see the smile on Calum’s face, and his entire body feels like it’s on fire. His stomach is churning in rage, Calum’s voice from the night before telling him that he was brave, and his fists curl at his sides. Ashton, somewhere, is watching– he can hear his voice calling his name from somewhere, but he’s already moving, turning on his heels, lunging for the boy who just had him by his shirt. 

And before anyone can do anything, Michael’s fist is colliding with his face, right in his nose. The guy stumbles back, and for a moment everything is frozen. But only a moment, before he’s lunging back, and Michael literally sees his entire life flashing before his eyes, but then in the same instant Calum all but jumps over the table to grab the guy and hold him back, at the same time that Ashton is there, dragging him away. And then, soon, the principal, too.

“You’re going to fucking pay for this!” He hears as he’s pulled out of the cafeteria and to the office, but he isn’t afraid. 

 

-

 

He’s suspended, which isn’t a surprise. He’s suspended, and the “victim”, who’s name he learns is Tyler, isn’t. It’s no use to explain what really happened, even though Ashton tries to explain that he provoked it. But Michael is the only one who threw a punch, so he’s the only one who gets punished. 

Ashton plans to drive him home, since his mom can’t get off of work, but Michael has a different request. He needs to go to the diner.

Casey’s isn’t owned by Casey, but rather, his daughter Liz. And besides the point that he needs to try and plea with Liz not to have him lose his job for the week he’s out of school, she’s always been like another mother to him.

They’re met with a surprise when they get to Casey’s. Liz is there, and so is her son, Luke. Luke is gangly, and sweet, and Michael’s had all of two or three conversations with him before, but Luke skipped school after seeing the fight to try and explain it all to his mom before she hears from anyone else. 

Michael doesn’t lose his job, and Liz bandages up his knuckles in the back kitchen, while Ashton and Luke hang around, despite Liz’s protests, as Michael explains what led up to it all. Liz offers to call the school and try to explain, which Michael declined. Luke offers to go back and fight Tyler, too, but Ashton shut that down quickly. 

“Is there, like. Could I maybe just pick up a few extra shifts, as long as I can’t be in school?” He requests. It’s his one request, given the circumstances, and Liz obliges. 

Michael thinks maybe he has more than one saint in his life. 

 

-

 

He tries not to think about Calum. He tries to just be angry. And he is, he’s so angry, but he’s also sort of shattered. He should’ve seen it coming, but he didn’t. And that let the whole situation hurt more than it should have.

Three days into his suspension, he’s closing down the diner, and Calum shows up. Michael had already locked the doors, and thankfully he was already wearing headphones, so he just doesn’t lift his head and pretends like he can’t hear his knuckles pounding on the glass, until he stops. When he leaves, he sneaks out the side exit that goes through the kitchen, knowing Calum’s car was parked in the parking lot, and he’d be ambushed if he went out the front. 

He keeps coming, is the thing. At night to the diner, at night outside his window. And then during the day. That’s his last straw.

And apparently it’s Liz’s, too. He’s back in the kitchen, getting a plate ready when he hears the woman all but screeching at the newest customer. Something about not being in school– and at first he thinks it may be Luke, or even Ashton, since he’d been spending a lot more time around lately– but then it got more harsh. She started demanding why he thought he could show up here, after everything he’d done, and that’s when it hit him that it was Calum.

He was frozen in place as he listening to the boy’s voice explaining he just needed a few minutes, and with a lot of strength, he exited the door and walked out.

“I can handle it, Liz. Cover my shift for a minute?” He requested, and the doubt on Liz’s face was clear as she approached him.

“You don’t have to do this, sweetie.” She murmured, and Michael gave a drawn out sigh and a little shake of his head that let her know that, yes, he did. “Okay.”

And with that, he was walking out the front door, around to the side of the building, trying to prepare himself mentally for this.

“Michael–” Calum started, but Michael was quick to cut him off, not even able to look him in the eyes yet. He hadn’t so much as looked at his face. 

“No. No, you don’t get to talk to me. _No_. You listen to me, you dick.” That seemed to shut him up, so Michael continued. “You– God. I don’t even have words for you. You’re horrible. You’re awful. You were supposed to be my best friend. You can’t just turn your back on me like that. Not when your friend was saying all that shit to me. God. I don’t care how much fucking money you have, Calum. It doesn’t excuse you from being a shitty person. It doesn’t mean you can just sit there– I just. Why?”

He finally stops to breathe, looking up and is silenced quickly by the black eye that was branded on his face. His gaze flickers down, and he sees the bruises over his knuckles, nearly identical to the ones on Michael’s fist. “Fucking hell, Calum. What happened to you? Did you–”

Calum’s nod leads him to fall silent, but Michael doesn’t have anything to say. Not yet. So he only nods back, letting Calum speak. “I don’t deserve to have any space in your life. I know that, Mike, I’m not coming here to beg. Well, I’d beg if you wanted, but that isn’t the point. It’s just.” He sighed, rubbing his hand over the good side of his face. “You terrify me, Michael. Because you know me. You’re the only one who knows me. All the rest of them? They know who they want to know but. You know it all. And I’m sick of pretending to be someone I’m not, Michael. I can’t do it anymore. Whether or not you’re willing to let me back into your life, I can’t keep pretending.

“I’d forgotten who I really was, though, and that’s why I came to Casey’s that night. You were the only person that I knew that could help me remember that person I wanted to be again. And, Michael, that’s terrifying. Being reminded of this person you’ve been running from for years, and realizing how much you miss that person. It’s terrifying. 

“And then, when you went home. It just got worse. I felt incomplete, like part of me was missing because you were gone. And I realized how much I wanted to go up after you and grab you and– and kiss you. I wanted to kiss you, and that. I keep using the word terrifying, fuck. I can’t think of anything else.”

Michael gave a breathy noise that almost resembled a laugh, and then Calum inhaled deeply before continuing. 

“I should’ve stuck up for you, in the cafeteria, I should’ve done something. But seeing you in possible danger like that, right after I came to terms with how I felt for you, I was frozen. I couldn’t do anything. Well, I did, just too late.” He held up his knuckles like some sort of proof, and Michael couldn’t really help but reach forwards to brush his fingers over them, shaking his head slowly. “I just had to explain. I don’t expect another chance, I just needed you to know.”

Michael was silent for a few more minutes, before taking a little breath of his own, gathering all his courage. “Go home, Calum.”

He did go home, but only for a few hours. 

Just like Michael expected, when he was closing up the diner that night, Calum came back. He left the door unlocked for that very reason. He knew Calum just as well as Calum said he did, and he knew that this would happen.

“I couldn’t stay away.” Calum breathed, making the strides across the diner. And everything was falling from Michael’s hands– the broom, the dustpan, the rag– as Calum came into his personal space.

“I didn’t want you to.” He whispered back. And when Calum took his face into his hands, it was like the universe had shifted again. But all he could really pay attention to was the way his lips felt like coming home after so, so long.

 

-

 

Of course, it wasn’t like a magical kiss in the end of the fairytale that righted all of the wrongs in Michael’s life. It wasn’t like one act of affection held the power to change his life completely.

No, he still had insults and cruel words thrown his way in the hallway. He still lived in the apartment with his mom, and they still struggled to pay their rent every month. He never got a car. He was still failing calculus. And he had to keep working every late night shift at Casey’s he could get.

But now he had a boyfriend who made the insults worth it. He had back a best friend who came and joined them in the apartment some nights, and who got him out of it on others. He had a driver of a Camry that was happy to take him places– like out to dinner, and to the movies, and to the park. He had a study buddy that didn’t make calculus so awful. And if he was lucky, he had a beautiful insomniac who would help him close down the diner each night.


End file.
